


Sorry (Not Sorry)

by Lliyk



Series: Frostburn [8]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Ambassador Katara (Avatar), Anticipation, Canon Compliant, Dominance, Domtara, Established Relationship, F/M, Fire Lord Zuko, Inspired by Art, Oral Sex, POV Katara (Avatar), Praise Kink, Simultaneous Orgasm, Some Plot, Story within a Story, dom katara, kind of but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lliyk/pseuds/Lliyk
Summary: A part of her considers if he did it just to rile her.The Kyoshi Warrior coughs.The Fire Lord remains rooted to the spot; blushing, if the tick of his pulse is anything to go by.“Well don’t just stand there, Your Grace,” Katara casually pushes her fingers through her hair and rests her temple against her palm as she reads. “be a good boy and do as you’re told.”
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Frostburn [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007067
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	Sorry (Not Sorry)

**Author's Note:**

> A lovely friend shared some art that was super sexy and super inspiring, so here’s this quick domtara scene that wouldn’t leave me alone!
> 
> uhhhhh it’s 2:17am... beware le typos lol

* * *

The lock turns. Katara looks up, pausing mid sip to flick her gaze over the candles occupying the mantle.

Midnight.

A gust of cool air slips into the dim antechamber.

“Close the door, Lord,” Katara says blithely, promptly downing the last dregs of dark red from her glass. Her eyes fix on the entrance, and she watches as the Fire Lord — tailed by a Kyoshi Warrior, unmet — freezes on the threshold, golden gaze immediately widening when it lands on her where she sits center stage of his assigned chambers, dressed in the comfort of her overnight robe, legs crossed at the knee, tome in hand, and a bottle of wine at her side.

“I know, I know,” her boyfriend starts with a sigh, removing his cloak and revealing the tailored crimson regalia underneath. “I know I said that I wouldn’t miss dinner again, but—”

 _But I ate with Hu Xin’s council_ , she recites him in her head, holding an annoyed sigh. She didn’t mind taking separate meals so much, but three _days_ she’d traveled from Yu Dao to meet and have this time with him, and _three days_ he has left her, waiting with her own devices across town while he took longer meeting hours. She understands, _of_ _course_ , but having him in her sight without having him in her hands... Three days, too many. 

A part of her considers if he did it just to rile her, how close she came to touching herself... Either way, no more.

Katara cuts him off as a wave of frustration crests and dies through her. “I don’t want excuses, Fire Lord. What I want is you clean, naked, and on your knees in front of me in the next twenty minutes.”

Zuko’s sharp intake of breath reaches her ears easily; she was listening for it, after all. Katara puts her glass down and drops her gaze back to her book in clear dismissal.

The Kyoshi Warrior coughs. 

The Fire Lord remains rooted to the spot; blushing, if the tick of his pulse is anything to go by.

“Well don’t just stand there, Your Grace,” Katara casually pushes her fingers through her hair and rests her temple against her palm as she reads. “be a good boy and do as you’re told.”

“Mira,” she hears after a beat. “you are dismissed.”

A quiet _yes, Lord_ , and Katara acknowledges the Warrior’s heartbeat moving away. The double doors lock shut, but she keeps her eyes resolutely on the words written on the page, letting the seconds tick by as Zuko moves in silence throughout his rooms. It isn’t until she feels the pressure in the pipes shift that she dives back into her book, the soothing lull of the shower running an easy cadence to relax to.

> _Wei Yin studies Akosua’s face with the intent of a woman scorned, the curve of her friend’s demure smile, stained plum from the shared drink, stirring a fire in her gut. She exhales slowly, surprised when smoke does not curl from her mouth, for it is as if Akosua had parted her lips with a kiss. Touched her tongue with hers and then breathed fire clear down her throat._
> 
> _“Wei Yin,” Akosua whispers in conspiracy, amber stare bright under her lashes and, oh,_ oh _. How dare she make her feel this way. “darling friend — would you rather I touch myself?”_
> 
> _A growl builds in Wei Yin, and before the consequence of her action can begin to take root in mind, she slips from her chaise and pounces without restraint._
> 
> _“Yes,” Akosua breathes, all of her coyness gone with the boldness of Wei Yin’s fingers. “Wei Yin._ Please.. _.”_

Katara feels the water from the shower cease; in her senses, a quickened heartbeat. Her own strums heavily from the contents of her torrid tome, and when Zuko comes to round the corner she notes that she is indeed as wet as he. Katara closes the book and quickly sets it aside. Silent still, Zuko begins to lower himself before her, and she drinks in his sculpted bare frame with a hunger much like Wei Yin’s.

She stops him at a crouch, her fingers reaching out to thread through his damp edges of his hair and hold before his knees touch the floor.

A small, low wanting sound accompanies Zuko’s sharp exhale, his lashes fluttering briefly before his molten gaze finds her stare.

“There you are,” Katara’s mouth curls in instant ardor, at the warmth of his presence wrapping around hers. “that wasn’t so hard, now was it? I mean, three _days_ , Lord. My patience was running thin — don't you want me here, Highness?”

“Of course I do, Ambassador,” Zuko starts. “I’m sorry—”

She flexes her grip in Zuko’s hair. A particular delight sparks through her body when she pulls him closer and he flushes down his chest, giving another growly moan for her trouble.

“Yes,” she says against his lips. “you will be.” 

With deft hands, she guides Zuko to his knees, her finger snagging the gold tread from his hair to settle over her wrist. His silken tresses spill in haphazard waves over his broad shoulders, and she cups his jaw so that she can tilt him to her will. 

“Beautiful,” Katara murmurs. Zuko’s eyes shut with a tiny gasp. She traces a line with her thumb over the corner of his mouth, up to the line of scar on his cheek and follows with her stare. She frowns. “ _beautiful_ but disobedient.”

Zuko lifts his eyes to meet hers, mouth setting in an almost defiant line. Katara smiles fleetingly, only slightly amused in her correct assumption of his avoidance. 

Zuko is not sorry at all.

... Just as well. 

Katara lets him loose and leans back in her chair before very pointedly uncrossing her legs. She revels in the satisfaction of his gaze immediately dropping to her core, her smile turning quickly cheshire.

“Tell me how badly you want to make it up to me.”

Blazing gold eyes travel slowly over her body, igniting a swift heat that brings a fine sheen of sweat to her skin. She tracks his gaze eagerly over her legs. Her thighs. The soft valley between her breasts just visible from the slit of her robe. 

“ _Very_ badly,” Zuko rumbles thickly, and the smoky timber of his voice sends shivers down her spine. “May I?” He asks, then shifting nervously at her continued silence, “Katara. Please?”

 _Good boy,_ she almost says it as another shiver darts through her, backed by a needy ache. She is reminded, then, of how long it’s really been since she’s been in Zuko’s presence — weeks, months since the solstice. Now winter has come and gone. 

“Best get started,” Katara allows. She’s waited _too_ _long,_ but Zuko’s being contrary, and she isn’t going to let him forget. “before I change my mind.”

Zuko starts with a kiss, a trail of them up her inner thigh while his large and hot hands smooth purposefully up her legs. He pauses when his mouth hits the hem of her navy robe, and his molten stare flicks briefly to hers before he catches the fabric between his teeth. Her breathing shallows at the action, and she curls her knee over his shoulder when he reaches the crux of her thighs. 

“ _Katara_ ,” smoke accompanies the desperate, broken sound of her name — her _name_ , not her title. “ _you’re wet._ ”

“Yes, _Your Highness_ ,” Katara, amused, lets the slip ups slide for now, one hand settling into his hair again. Not urging, but just there. “if you _must_ know: I haven’t cum in _three days—_ ”

Zuko’s tongue is sure and firm, silencing her with practiced ease. He moans as his mouth meets her, and a sigh of snowflakes skitters past her lips at the staggering vibration. The flat of his tongue drags over her pulsing clit. Her hips buck, unbidden, and Zuko curls his hands over her hips to keep her still like they both like. 

An airy, wanton cry escapes her; against her lowered leg Zuko rutts his rock hard cock, scorching hot and leaving damp patches on her skin and very much against the rules. The thought to admonish him flies from her mind, overtaken by the fire coiling uninterrupted in the pit of her belly at his palpable desire for her. Zuko’s fingers tighten over her hips, and in the next second Katara starts to coo as he fucks his tongue precisely between her folds.

“ _Oh_. That’s nice. Yes. _Yes_ ,” she murmurs, flexing her fingers where they rest. Telling bolts of electricity tighten her core. “ _very_ good, my dearest Fire Lord—”

This is the wrong thing to say, she knows — he wants to hear _his_ name with the praise, but that she will not give so easily — and for it she is handsomely rewarded. With a fierce growl Zuko drags her forward so she sits at the end of the now moistened chair, laying his arm across her navel so she has nowhere to retreat to.

A finger joins his tongue, then another, and then her body is writhing as she gasps at the feeling of being so very trapped against him, at the precise drag of fingertips against the walls of her center, working her apart as if her body is his to rule — and it is. It _is_ , and he is _so_ , so very perfect at it.

“Perfect boy,” Katara moans the words before she can stop herself, her grip tightening in his hair as her decorum rapidly slips away. “ _Perfect_ , perfect, _naughty_ — _Zuko!_ ”

Zuko whines low in his throat at his escaped name, the sound fueling her clear towards the edge — but it’s the gentle scrape of his teeth over her clit and quickened thrust of his cock against her leg, needy and rhythmless, that sends white-hot pleasure seizing her entire body. 

With a breathless gasp — “Fuck _, good boy,” —_ Katara twists and tries to bow up, her spine tingling with the instinctual urge, but Zuko holds her tighter still as her walls flutter around his scissored fingers and questing tongue. Slick, hot wetness rushes out of her center, and with keening, desperate sounds Zuko laps up her orgasm.

Her sensitive flesh convulses at the continued touch, the smooth slide of his tongue sending bolts charging through her system.

“Oh Tui,” her hips shift aimlessly and _La_ , she might just cum a second time. “ _Zuko_.”

A guttural sound rents the air, the vibration of it running quick up her core and sending her back towards bliss. Zuko laves lightly at her clit, and his fingers curl within her in the same second that something warm and wet pools down her leg. A muttered curse falls out of Katara’s mouth. Her thighs tremble and squeeze, and in the next second she is cumming all over again, snowflakes cascading up, out from her lips as her breath is punched out of her.

Zuko gives languid sucks over her center as she shakes, and when he finally raises his mouth at her sharp tug of his locks — pretty swollen red and glistening in the dim candlelight — his blazing gold eyes meet her hooded gaze with a glitter of triumph. But his chest is heaving in time with hers, and there’s spunk drying on her calf. No matter how smug, she most certainly did not tell him to let go.

Before she can gulp the air to form the words, soft fondness relaxes Zuko’s features and his thumb starts a pattern of circles along the jut of her hip. “Missed you,” he murmurs, and she should _fight him_ about the _three days_ , not instantly melt into a puddle of ardor at the simply worded confession.

Katara sits up carefully and leans over him, letting her hand from his hair to curl her knuckles under his chin. He’s smiling now, gently, lovingly.

She darts her tongue over his wet bottom lip. “Sweet boy,” she says around the taste of herself, a tiny grin pulling the corners of her lips. “I missed you more.”

Zuko brings her in for a proper kiss, slow and saccharine and setting fire to her all over again.

“Sorry,” he sighs into her. “... _not sorry._ ”


End file.
